A solution

Ah, I think I've found a way to conveniently share the summary - check it out.

http://www.writely.com/Doc.aspx?id=bcctn23pwcjqm

I tried to keep it short, but if I missed anything too important, or if you can't see the file, let me know!

A technical question . . .

So our old friend Sally asks,

DAISI?

in a comment on one of the threads upstream a ways. I can only guess that she's asking who this DAISI is; I haven't read back to check, but DAISI might have moved in with us after the last time Sally checked in.

I'd like to compile a relatively brief summary of our adventures so far, to make it easier for people to catch up when they've been gone for a while - but I don't see any way to have static pages here, you know? What I'd love is a link on the side bar; click it and you'd be taken to a summary page. I'd update the summary page every few weeks, or whenever Robert complained enough about it.

Any ideas on how to do that? Thx.

btw my e-mail address is in my profile now. But if you send me anything that I think needs to be posted here, I'll do so. Fair warning.

Never play Scrabble with a Zen master

So we're playing today. I made DAISI watch the monitors, since she screwed up so badly yesterday - so I'm doing ok in the game. I've never known a Zen master before, so I'm watching Maddie pretty carefully, trying to figure her out. She seems nice enough, though she has a propensity to go off on Buddhist stuff sometimes.

Towards the end of the game she's talking about the monkey mind (not what I thought it was going to be! Stupid Buddhists.) and then it's her turn and she just casually lays down TEQUILA on a triple word score! Argh.

I know you're all concerned about Maddie, and believe me, I have my doubts, too.

I asked her how she found us, and she said that Mr. Kotter had us followed the day we went over to visit and trade peaches. I can't blame him; I would have, too. And it turns out that I'm not the only one who thinks he looks like Mr. Kotter; pretty much everyone calls him that. It's a bummer; I thought I was all clever. But no.

Anyway it's pretty clear that the location of our basement isn't really much of a secret any more; after DAISI found us, I guess it was just a matter of time until we had more visitors, both the good kind and the bad. We've got the EMP weapon and we've got the surveillance cameras and DAISI swears the geese will protect us (yeah right. They're creepy, but i don't see them scaring off evil robot monkeys.) And there isn't really any place else to go - I've asked Derek to start scouting out a new safe place for us, but it's so dangerous to be outside - I'm always terrified when he's gone.

I can't say that I disagree with G. about pacifism. These are difficult times - and I just can't believe that people have scruples about killing evil robot monkeys. It's like blowing up a toaster, people! Maybe it's a waste of technology in these troubled times - but it's not a moral issue. Derek and Maddie are getting along famously but they really make me cranky.

Why's it my job to defend those who refuse to defend themselves? I should just put a sign out front: The Clarissa F. Mueller Home for Wayward Pacifists.

One good thing about nuns and nice robot monkeys: they're not too interested in booze. I'm becoming quite fond of peach juice spiked well with vodka. We've got a whole wall of canned peaches to work through; such a shame to waste all that juice.

The Latest Developments

So this afternoon, the three of us are sitting around playing Scrabble. Of course, DAISI is winning, so I let Gretchen gum my tiles while I'm waiting for inspiration to strike, and oops, if she swallows them, then I guess we just won't be able to play Scrabble any more, now, will we? But no, she's a good baby, and spits the tiles right out again.

Then someone knocked on the door.

Holy crap.

It's such an ordinary sound - but I haven't heard it for weeks. And here, in the basement, living like this, how can it mean anything good? I leap up, and if the Scrabble board is knocked over and tiles scattered everywhere that's just a coincidence, right? It was an accident. I swear. I guess we'll just have to start over, and maybe I won't lose so badly next time.

So anyway. The door. I jump up and head for the big red EMP button, but DAISI tells me to stop. We look at the monitors - stupid monkey, playing Scrabble when she was supposed to be watching the monitors - who actually bothers to learn all those lame 2-letter words, anyway? and when I see what's out there, I'm glad I didn't hit the button.

I'm not all that clear on what an EMP would do to a person, but she's thankful we didn't find out.

At first I think it's a guy, because this person has a shaved head. Then the face turns up toward the camera, and I can tell, somehow, even on the grainy black and white monitor, that this is a woman. She's a skinny thing, and looks a little hesitant.

Derek looks at me. "Another one of your friends?"

I shake my head. Geoffrey's in Canada and he's not a woman; Jilly's in Tuscon and she's not a woman; MimiRobby and Sarah are probably women but you'd think they would have said something before just showing up. I have no idea who this person is.

"What should we do?" We were all wondering it, but I was the one who said it. What could we do? We could try out the EMP. We could use some of the other weapons. We could just stay quiet until she went away - but if she was human, and she sure looked like she was, then the monkeys would get her soon. So we did the only thing we reasonably could: we let her in.

Her name is Maddie, she's a Buddhist nun, and Mr. Kotter threw her out of his compound when he learned she wasn't willing to fight monkeys.

So she came here? Great. She and Derek are going to get along famously. I just hope she sucks at Scrabble. Oooh, and I bet she's lousy at poker; I bet I can take her down.

More soon.

Johari and Nohari

My friend Ahavah cued me in to johari and nohari - check it out!

In johari, I pick from a list of positive attributes that I think apply to me; then my friends pick, and I get to compare how I see myself to how y'all see me. They call it a "personality awareness" exercise. It was developed in the 1950s; you can tell, because "can kick the shit out of evil robot monkeys" is not listed as a positive attribute.

In nohari, same deal, but with negative characteristics.

Please take a look!
My johari
My nohari


On another note entirely, my stat tracker lets me see how people found this blog. I am not making this up: someone found us by using the search term "I need love from robot monkey."

Words fail me. Good night.

(though I suspect "Jilly" is single.)

One more reason to love Google

If you type :(|) colon paren pipe paren in google chat it makes a monkey smiley! They think of EVERYTHING.

You are such a monkey.

"Jilly" again:

I left the garage the day before I wrote.

Sure you did, sweetie. Nice try. You taking lying lessons from 10-year-olds? I guess ERM truth evasion technology is still pretty primative (which I take as evidence that they were not produced by the Soviets or the Republicans). Who needs to lie well when you've got laser rifles? I expect the next generation to have some pretty significant enhancements in this area. Why, just look at how much better Jilly's speech is than DAISI's, and I think Jilly's only two generations older than DAISI. (I bet Jilly could kick DAISI's ass at Scrabble. That would be nice.)

These are not true chimps! Jane Goodall would be bored out of her skull watching them. They just stood there for several minutes, doing nothing. Then Sagey got bored and wandered off to catch a rat.

Jane Goodall wouldn't be bored. Once the monkeys shot her in the stomach, she'd be too busy bleeding to death to be bored.

Who but a monkey would try to convince me that evil robot monkeys just stand around harmlessly and let primate researchers take field notes?

Plus. The monkeys don't just kill people. They kill cats and dogs, too. They seem to leave birds alone, for some reason, but they are death on mammals - which Jilly would know, if she were a real human being in hiding. Which she's not. Because she's an evil robot monkey doing a poor imitation of a woman. This is like watching a really awful drag queen; he's not convincing anyone but he sure keeps trying.

Anyway, I'm just hoping that you will continue to post. And continue to let me post.

I support free speech, even for evil robot monkeys. By offering you a space to incriminate yourself, I can gather the information I need to fight off you and the scourge you represent.

Paranoia

I have posted before about how odd we become under isolation. One impulse: greet newcomers with open arms! Hug them! Kiss them! Give them gin! Kiss them more vigorously! Drink more gin! In the morning you might regret being so free with your kisses but in the moment, oh, in the moment you are sure that it is right and true and good.

On the other hand, strangers who intrude should be viewed with great suspicion and shot. On sight. And in the morning you might regret being so free with your laser rifle but in the moment, oh, in the moment you are sure that it is right and true and good.

So let us consider Jilly.

Robert questioned this part of her post:

This place was used as a bomb shelter during the fifties, and the stocks of MRE's are still here, and still edible. Mostly. As much as they ever were.

Apparently she got some of the terminology wrong.

But for me, this is the damning part:

My cats and I have taken refuge in an underground parking garage, right in the center of downtown. We're down on the lowest level.

HELLO? You are living in hiding YET YOU POST FREELY ON THE INTERNET that you are in the lowest level of a parking garage in downtown Tuscon.

No fucking way, lady.

It would take me maybe 25 minutes to find you, and the monkeys can google just as fast as I can. No one who has survived a monkey attack is that stupid - even I was sneakier than that about our location. I haven't even told y'all what town I'm in.

If there is one thing we have learned as survivors, it is paranoia - and Jilly? no way.

She's no survivor.

She's a monkey.

Geoffrey writes:

As for the monkeys in Nova Scotia--you and Robert are the first outside contact I've been able to make since the accident. Food supplies are running low and the phone lines are dead. Jimminy went out to seek a recent issue of TV Guide, and hasn't returned...I have come to the realization that I might never know how Survivor concludes this season.

Stay brave, stay free, fight the monkeys.

And I am just worried. Worried about Geoffrey, of course, but also about those poor people on Survivor. Can you imagine? They go through 39 days of grueling physical challenges, minimal food and water, weird manipulative psychodynamics and backstabbing, all for the hope of a million dollars. And, ok, they're desperate attention-seeking whores, but still - it doesn't look very fun, does it?

But the group that's currently out on some idyllic island somewhere - what's going to happen to them when they come back to the United States? Can you imagine going through everything they have, only to find a devastated monkey-infested world upon their return? Talk about culture shock. Do you think the producers tell them? Probably not - they probably just keep the cameras rolling, and watch as the survivors are slaughtered. It will be their best ratings on a finale show EVER.

Still no TV here. I have been able to find out a little bit about Survivor from various web sites, but it's just not the same as watching it. I did try to download one episode from Google but Derek wouldn't let me use the credit card; he said it would let the evil robot monkeys track us. He's probably right - but even if he isn't, I've put us in so much jeopardy already. DAISI has been a big help but the risk - I look back on what happened last week and I am just astonished and humbled by how lucky we are.

But ok, ok, I'm worried about G. too - all alone in Nova Scotia and running out of food. I wish there was something I could do to help. I know that there are survivors everywhere, in every city - the problem is that we're not organized, for the most part. Mr. Kotter has gathered a group, and that's great for them - but mostly, it's isolated individuals left.

If only there was some way I could help Geoffrey, and all the other lone survivors out there. I keep thinking of the underground railroad that helped escaped slaves flee to freedom in the North - but even if we could get something like that organized - there's no safe place to go. And we just don't have the infrastructure yet - there's Geoffrey in Nova Scotia and Mimi Robby up in the mountains - but that's not much of a network.

But there is no safe place.

I think I need a drink.

Target Practice

Every day, DASI and I go out for target practice. Derek watches Gretchen while we're gone. He's so good with her. When I come back, they'll be playing with her blocks, or maybe just be asleep together on the couch. He really likes having some time alone with her. And I like having time outside - and time with the laser weapons.

First, we make sure there were no ERMs within camera range. I love having the surveillance cameras set up - it's almost as good as having windows. I bet DAISI would whip up some curtains to hang around the monitors to make them look more window-ish if I suggested it. She's awfully Martha Stewart for a monkey.

Once we we're confident that the coast was clear, we open the basement door and step out into the sunlight. It's always such a shock, going out into the world again. The sun's so bright that I stand there blinking and squinting for a few minutes, and the light looks unnaturally brilliant. And you know how sometimes you sneeze when you look at a bright light? (It's something about how the optic nerve is really close to the nerves involved in sneezing - and lots of bright light confuses them.) So we spend a little while with me blinking and sneezing and my eyes watering. DAISI carries the laser rifle for the first few minutes and covers me.

I have seriously got to get some sunglasses.

I don't know if I can describe how beautiful it is in this city right now. It snowed a week ago, and while most of it has melted off the roads and sidewalks (luckily for us, or we'd leave tracks!) there's still a good few inches on the grassy parts. What little snow is left on the sidewalks is the dried-out brittle kind, and you can hear it crunching under our feet as we walk along. It's utterly silent - have you ever been in a completely silent city before? There's no background noise of traffic or people talking - just the pigeons and sparrows and crows flying around and calling to each other.

A few days ago I saw a dog skulk around a corner, but that's the only time I've seen anything alive besides birds.

This city has the desolate beauty and silence of the Arctic now. DAISI and I don't talk as we move through the streets. I have my little razor scooter and DAISI huddles on the handlebars. She holds on with one hand and holds the laser rifle with the other hand, so that she's ready if we're attacked. It hasn't happened yet, but I don't assume that means it never will. It's just a matter of time.

What we do is get a good safe distance away from the basement, and then we look for an abandoned house that's good for target practice. We like ones with big fenced-in back yards.

Sometimes there are people in those back yards, lying stiffly in the sun. The ground is frozen so I can't bury them - I just write the address down in a little notebook, fumble through a prayer I don't believe, and then tell DAISI we need to find a new house to practice in. They won't rot until spring.

The house we pick today is one of those big suburban houses that looks just like its neighbors. It had a big cedar fence, though - we like the fences because it helps us feel a little more secure, and because we can put targets up on the fence to aim at.

DAISI draws shapes all over the fence for me to aim at - different sizes and at different heights - and then she starts drilling me. FIRE! FIRE! FIRE! and I pull the gun, aim, fire, practicing for speed and accuracy.

At first, it feels a little awkward, but as the day's session progresses, it all starts to feel more fluid. I'm a little worried about that - when we're attacked by monkeys, I won't have the luxury of a warm-up period. So I do my best to focus at the beginning of every session.

After a while, DAISI decides that I'm good enough at stationary targets, and she rigs something up with rope so that I can work on moving targets. She stands at one end of the fence and pulls the rope, and it's my job to fire at it. She doesn't pull smoothly, either, of course, so it's pretty hard.

I miss the first few, then settle into it. The target's just a paper plate, but in my mind, it's more than that - it's everyone who's ever hurt me. It's monkeys, of course, but it's everyone who has ever annoyed me, or insulted me, or simply not loved me as much as I thought they should. I start working through my list of grievances.

After a while, though, that starts to feel wrong. What we were doing out there - it involved so much more than me, you know? It's much bigger than what my sixth-grade teacher said, or why my boyfriend my sophomore year in college cheated on me with his whorish Linguistics professor, or even what happened that one time in Kansas - well, anyway, it's bigger than all that.

It's not about me.

It's about the monkeys, and it's about the survival of the human race, and so I let go of all my other issues and just focus. Look, aim, fire, Look, aim, fire, over and over again, until I can do it without thinking, until it's part of me, until I stand exhausted, legs and arms quivering from the exertion, panting savagely.

Then we go home.

I have never been happier.

Geese

DAISI says:

Guard geese, like Ballantines Distillery on Clyde. Scotland. Geese guard good. Very fierce, more than dogs fierce. Guard whiskey. Guard Clarissa.

They're paint. PAINT! How protective can paint be? Even if it's totally lead-based paint, the monkeys would have to eat it and then, what, how long does it take to die from lead poisoning? I doubt it's going to do us much good, frankly.

DAISI and Derek were working on the EMP weapon (Derek's just handing her pieces; he's useless at electronics) and I was bored, so I went way over in the other corner of the basement, where they can't really see me, and drew fangs on some of the geese. It made them look really fierce, but it didn't make me feel much better. And Derek and DAISI are going to be cranky when they notice it.

And Geoffrey from Nova Scotia writes

I've had difficulty in resolving issues between saccarine geese borders and EMP weapons. I hope you have better luck than I did.

Thanks, G. What kind of problems did you run into? I think the plan is to have most of the mechanism outside, so it shouldn't be affected by the border - all that's inside is the trigger mechanism. When we spot monkeys surrounding the building to attack, we'll push the big red button, and poof! I'd been hoping that it would be sort of a permanent barrier, but apparently we don't have enough power to maintain something like that - so it's a one-shot weapon right now. Luckily DAISI doesn't require sleep, so she spends a fair amount of time on guard duty, watching the cameras.

I really hope we can trust her.

How bad are the monkeys in Nova Scotia? I heard Quebec went silent about a week and a half ago. Sometimes I wish I were religious, like Derek, so I could say things like "Canada is in our prayers."

Maybe Evil Robot Monkeys Do Eat Bananas, After All

I just found this now, though it's a story from the fall of 2004:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/5941187/

British scientists are developing a robot that will generate its own power by eating flies. Pretty cool, except they attract the flies using shit, so they're stinky. So maybe these monkeys really do consume organic matter - maybe that's why they kidnap some people. I don't know. I need to talk to DAISI about it but she's kind of sensitive about the history of the robots and I can't ask her too much at once.


I do have a lot to tell you all about our life in the basement with DAISI. Soon, I hope; we're really busy, as you can imagine. She's really good with electronics, and that's been a godsend. First we convinced Derek to let us use electricity - first we had to paper mache over the former windows just to make sure there weren't any cracks that were letting out light. Then DAISI rigged up some kind of generator - I don't really understand what she did, but it works really well, and now we have all the power we could use. Then she set up some surveillance cameras outside the building, and now she's working on rigging an EMP weapon. I think Derek was more comfortable without electricity at all (You can take the boy out of Amish country . . . ) but I think it's great. I wish we could get a TV - what's been happening on Lost? And Survivor?

Also she painted this little country goose pattern along the top of the wall, you know, like you'd do a wallpaper strip in your typical suburban house? I really don't like the country goose thing much, but it seems to make her happy, so whatever. You'd think that one advantage of living in a monkey-infested post-apocalyptic world is that you wouldn't have to deal with cheesey fake-country decorating any more, but I guess not.

More later.

More About Derek

A few days ago, Sally Goraemon said something that I've been thinking about ever since.

I fought so much with my husband before...now that they've taken him, I regret it every second. Cherish the time you have with Derek!

. . . Remember the wonderful beginnings -- don't forget them! It's what we need in these hard times. Memory is all that sustains me in through these wretched days.

I think maybe I'm giving you guys the wrong impression of Derek, because I tend to only tell you the worst parts. Of course he makes me crazy sometime, and of course our marriage, like any, is a lot of work. But oh, there's so much good stuff, too.

So here are some of the things that I love about him, not in any particular order:

1. He saved me and our baby from the evil robot monkeys.

2. He has a really great ass.

3. He loves me so much that he turned his back on the community he grew up with in order to be with me. It would have been easier for him to stay - but he chose me, and he's chosen me again every day since then.

4. He snorts when he laughs really hard, and that just makes him laugh more.

5. He reads me poetry. Right now we're working our way through Jane Hirschfield:

For What Binds Us

There are names for what binds us:
strong forces, weak forces.
Look around, you can see them:
the skin that forms in a half-empty cup,
nails rusting into the places they join,
joints dovetailed on their own weight.
The way things stay so solidly
wherever they've been set down --
and gravity, scientists say, is weak.

And see how the flesh grows back
across a wound, with a great vehemence,
more strong
than the simple, untested surface before.
There's a name for it on horses,
when it comes back darker and raised: proud flesh,

as all flesh
is proud of its wounds, wears them
as honors given out after battle,
small triumphs pinned to the chest --

And when two people have loved each other
see how it is like a
scar between their bodies,
stronger, darker, and proud;
how the black cord makes of them a single fabric
that nothing can tear or mend.

Thanks, Sally.

Daisi Cheats at Scrabble

Turns out her programming includes some military code decryption algorithms that work really well at Scrabble.

It's just not fair. Stupid monkey.

DAISI Changes Everything

I just gaped at the monkey. If there'd been another evil one around, it would have killed me, because I was just standing there like an idiot.

"DAISI" she said again. "Not evil I." And damned if she didn't look not evil. She'd helped me fight off the monkeys and she was wounded - there was a hole in one of her hands. Paws?

Hands. They look like hands, though they don't bleed.

"I'm Clarissa," I said.

She muttered more about how she wasn't evil and how evil the evil ones were. She was holding her hand limply against her chest - it sure looked like it hurt. Do evil robot monkeys feel pain?

I looked over to the car. I could see Derek peeking his head up over the trunk to see what was happening. Fool - for all he knew, we were still battling monkeys. Someday he's going to get his head shot off.

"So, uh," I said. "Thanks for, you know." I pointed at the dead monkeys.

"Not evil I!" she said again. "Want Clarissa trust I. Not evil I." Well, you know how she talks. I looked at the gun she left me and I looked at her and I looked at the dead monkeys - and I sighed. Now what?

"Are you hurt?" I asked her. She told me that she'd heal, eventually, something about nanosomethings, but it would take time. Poor Daisi.

Then Derek crossed the street. "What's going on?"

Well, this was going to be awkward. "Honey, this is DAISI," I said. "She's the monkey who found me through the blog, the one who says she isn't evil."

"And you believe her?"

"She fought of the ones who were trying to kill me! And look, she's wounded." I knealt down beside Daisi and put my arm around her.

Derek shook his head at me but I just glared at him.

"Not evil I!" said Dasi again. I hope she has more to say than that.

"You believe her?" Derek asked me. "She's a MONKEY." Then he sort of loomed over Daisi. "Look, Daisi, thank you very much for your help just now. Believe me, I understand how much you helped us. If you hadn't shown up, we'd all be dead." Or worse, I thought, remembering how the monkeys were going to take me. "But. Clearly it's not safe for us to sit around talking all day, and we've got to go to the Con-" he broke off. "To a safe place. We can't stay in the basement any more, now that you know where it is. We need to leave. Thank you." And then he reached his hand down to me.

I just looked at his hand. "Come on, Clarissa. We need to go." I just put my arm tighter around Daisi. Maybe she's just a robot - but she got hurt helping me, and there's something about the look in her eyes - there was no way I was leaving her here.

"Wait here, Daisi," I said, and walked Derek a little ways away so that we could speak in private. In private? Probably Daisi has super-sensitive hearing and overheard every word but I had to try.

Well, I told Derek what I thought and he told me what he thought and at all times we were polite and respectful and did not shout and if I called him a fucking heartless bastard it was an accident and if he called me reckless and flakey, that was an accident, too. So then I was crying and his face was all red and then we heard Gretchen start to cry, too.

Derek took a deep breath, and pulled me into his arms. "I'm sorry," he said, and kissed the top of my head. "If this means this much to you - "

I nodded against his chest. "It does."

So we went back to Daisi and Derek picked her up and carried her back to the car. We couldn't very well take her to Mr. Kotter with us, and I wasn't willing to abandon her. But Daisi swore that the other monkeys had no idea where we were. Derek didn't believe her, but I did.

Derek finished fixing the flat tire, and then we headed back to the basement. As we went through the door, he pulled me aside. "I love you," he said, "but next time you decide you want a robot, you're getting a roomba." I pushed past him and into the basement to be with Daisi.

What Happened Next

Seems like I'm always apologizing to you guys for not being able to keep you updated. Sorry! As always, there's a lot going on here, and it's hard to get the time to myself.

OK, so, here's what happened next.

We left the basement. I was carrying Gretchen and I had the laser rifle the "nice" monkey left for me hidden in the waistband of my jeans. I hadn't told Derek about the rifle the previous night when I confessed - I just told him that the monkeys knew where we were. And yeah, she says she's not evil but how am I supposed to believe that?

I just didn't trust Derek with the rifle; that was the heart of it. The Amish are very anti-war, and pretty useless in a fight, you know? But he's enough of a man to insist on carrying the weapon - so I just didn't tell him about it. Every marriage has its little subterfuges, I think, little secrets held in the interest of keeping the peace. OK, so some of my secrets weren't so little, or harmless, like this blog - but we've already gone over that. I don't want to talk about it any more.

I got Gretchen buckled into her car seat, and sat in the passenger seat. Of course Derek has to drive the car. Derek started the car, and then he looked at me. "Wait," he said. "I should go back and burn it."

What? "No, no, sweetie, don't do that."

"But what if the monkeys get our supplies?"

What does he think the monkeys are going to do with a year's worth of canned peaches? I think he just likes burning stuff, personally. "We don't have anything they want," I told him. "Don't burn it. We need to get out of here. And besides, what if we need to come back here sometime? It's not safe now, but let's not burn our, uh, buildings behind us." It was enough that he burned my house - I didn't want him to burn my basement, too.

He sighed, and I knew he was going to listen to me. I relaxed back against the seat, but the laser gun was digging into my back, so I had to sit up straighter than usual, and just hope Derek wouldn't notice anything odd.

We drove toward the West Side Convention Center. I knew that Derek didn't want to go join up with Mr. Kotter (remind me to find out what his real name is! I can't keep calling him Mr. Kotter!) but what else could we do? And besides, I'd wanted to go live at the Convention Center since the first moment I saw it. We'd be safe there, and we'd have company.

So we didn't talk much on the way there. It was kind of awkward.

Then we got a flat tire. "God damn it," Derek said, and let me tell you, the Amish just don't swear. Even though it's been years since he was part of that community, old habits die hard. I can't think of a worse time to get a flat tire - well, maybe if we were fleeing from a river of molten lava or something.

Derek got out of the car and took all the luggage (and trade items - ammo, cigarettes, booze) out of the trunk so that he could get to the jack and the spare. It didn't look like much, all piled up on the side of the empty road like that, but it was all we had - besides each other, and the laser gun. God damn monkeys.

I got out of the car so that I could keep an eye out for monkeys. "Get back in the car, Clarissa," Derek told me, but then I pointed out that it would be a little easier to jack up the car if I wasn't in it, and he just sort of grunted at me and went back to the lug nuts.

We were in an industrial part of town, mostly populated by warehouses and office buildings. The nicer buildings had these big sprawls of lawn in front of them. One even had a fountian - though the water wasn't running any more.

I felt really exposed, just standing there, and wished Derek would hurry up.

"Shit," he said, and the wrench slipped off the lug nut he was working on.

I walked over to look, as if that would do any good. It didn't. "Stop blocking the sunlight, Clarissa," he said. Sorry. So I stepped back - and that's when I saw the monkeys.

There were six of them, and they saw us and broke into that weird trot they have. They're fast little bastards - you wouldn't think it to look at them but they are. They were about a block away, on the other side of the street. Holy shit.

"MONKEYS!" I screamed, and then I whipped out the laser gun. Derek started to lift his head up but I shoved him back down behind the car again. I looked at the gun - thank God I'd spent all that time holding it - I knew what the controls were.

So I aimed it at the lead monkey. It was hard because the little shit was bobbing around and but finally I just squeezed the trigger.

A car three feet away from the monkeys blew up. Shit. My aim sucked.

I tried again, faster, and missed.

The monkeys were closer. Oh God.

Then I just kept firing. I didn't even try to aim, I just pointed the gun in the general direction of the monkeys and fired.

I got two of them. They just disintegrated. The other monkeys stopped running, and gathered around their fallen comrades. I thought they looked puzzled but surely that was just my imagination. I took out another one while they were looking at the ones I'd killed. Destroyed. Whatever.

Can evil robot monkeys really be killed? You're damn right they can.

Then the monkeys figured out what was going on, and took shelter behind a car. I didn't know if the laser guns would cut through cars or not - but I sure didn't feel very safe.

And then I remembered: Gretchen was still in the car. Oh, crap - if the lasers could cut through steel, then Gretchen - no. I wouldn't let that happen.

"Stay here," I said to Derek, and then I took off. I thought maybe I could sneak around in a big circle and get behind the monkeys and kill them. 3 to 1 wasn't very good odds, but maybe if I surprised them I'd have the advantage again. I'd already taken out 3.

I was breathing hard. And as I crept from one car to the next, praying that they wouldn't see me, I realized: this was the best moment of my life. I'd killed 3 monkeys by myself, and was on my way to get the rest. I was in the zone. Everything was perfect. I'd been waiting for this moment for all my life, without even realizing it.

This is what I was born to do.


But when I crept up on the monkeys behind their barricade, they were waiting for me. All three had their laser guns pointed at me. Oh, crap. I guess my sneaking technique needs some work.

The largest monkey smiled at me - and if you have ever seen a monkey smile, you know how creepy that could be. He kept his gun aimed at me, and grunted. The other two put down their guns and walked toward me - and then I knew. They were going to take me. Take me to wherever the others had been taken and do God knows what - Shit. I started to lift my laser gun to my temple. I hated to leave Derek and Gretchen but - I would not let the monkeys take me alive.

"I'm sorry, Gretchen," I said.

Then there was a horrible screech behind me. I turned, and saw another monkey. It bared its fangs at my three monkeys, and aimed its laser gun and blew away the big one, one with the nasty smile. The other two monkeys picked up their guns and returned fire. One of their shots hit the new monkey in the arm and she shrieked in agony. Can evil robot monkeys feel pain? Apparently.

But while they were distracted by her shrieks, I took care of them. Pow, pow, no more monkeys.

I turned to the new monkey.

"Who are you?" I said.

"DAISI," she said. "Robot not evil DAISI monkey I."

My Conversation With Derek

Well. After I realized the monkeys were on to us, I knew I had to tell Derek. He was asleep when I figured it out, so I spent a long time trying to figure out what to do. Should I wake him up and tell him? He's always extra-cranky and not very smart when he first wakes up - maybe it would be better to let him sleep. But what if the monkeys are on their way?

But at heart I knew that I was just afraid to tell him, because he'd be so mad. He warned me and warned me that this blog was a bad idea, although I don't think he even considered the idea that it would let the monkeys track us down. I mean, one of the key concepts of "hiding" is that you DON'T LET ANYONE KNOW WHERE YOU ARE. damn it all, I really screwed up. I felt awful. And I just wasn't ready to face Derek yet.

So I got the laser rifle out from under Gretchen's mattress and sat with it. If the monkeys came, at least I'd be prepared. I wasn't entirely sure how it worked, but how hard could it be? I spent a long time running my fingers over it in the dark, familiarizing myself with the controls. Push this button, pull the trigger, presto - there's no other way it could work. The technology might be advanced but the user interface is exquisitely simple.

I fell asleep around 1 am. I am a sucky guard. Luckily the monkeys did not come, and we all survived the night. Maybe the nice monkey was telling the truth, after all. But I knew I couldn't risk it.

So after a nice breakfast, I let Derek beat me at Scrabble; I wanted him to be in as good of a mood as possible before I told him. Finally, as he was putting away the tiles, I knew I couldn't put it off any longer.

"Honey," I said, and then stopped. How do you confess that you've betrayed your location to the evil robot monkeys?

"Hmmm?" he said.

"You know how you said we should always be honest with each other?"

"Of course," he said. "And I've always been honest with you. I swear. Why, what did you hear?"

"What?"

"Uh, nothing. Never mind. What was it you were saying?"

"Well. I have to tell you something. But I'm afraid you're going to be mad."

"Oh, sweetie. I promise I won't be mad. You can tell me anything. Honesty is important."

"Really?"

"Really," he assured me. "I won't get mad."

So I told him.

He got mad.

I let him yell at me for a few minutes, and then I took Gretchen and went way over to the other side of the basement to give him some time to get it out of his system. Finally, he was ready to discuss things rationally.

"We need to leave here and go to New Utopia," I said.

"No," he said. "No way am I taking you and Gretchen there."

"But they have electricity. And machine guns. We'll be safe there. Safer than here, at least."

"No! That man - the things they're doing there - "

"Like what?" Like turning on the LIGHTS so they can see each other? Like having other human beings around to talk to? Like having armed guards to protect us from the monkeys? Great! Sign me up! I don't know what Derek is so paranoid about.

Derek paused. "It's just rumors," he said. "But I don't know. Any time you take a group of people, isolated and under stress, and give them a charismatic power-hungry leader like Mr. Kotter, things get weird. I don't trust him."

Fine. Don't tell me. Because there's nothing to tell, I thought, but was smart enough not to say it. It was so clear to me that Derek felt threatened by Mr. Kotter - he was afraid Mr. Kotter would do a better job at taking care of me and Gretchen than he could. All this stupid macho bullshit is going to get us killed someday.

"But we can't stay here," I said. And they had ELECTRICITY at New Utopia. "We have to go somewhere."

Just then Gretchen started to cry. "Please, Derek," I said. "We have to keep her safe. Please."

He sighed. "All right," he said, finally. "I don't like it, but maybe it'll be ok until I can find another safe place for us.

"Oh, thank you, Derek!" I said, and leaned over and kissed him.

Well. That had gone better than I could possibly have hoped. It's not every day that you jeopardize the safety of your entir family with a blog, and live to tell the tale.

We started packing again, trying to decide what we'd need in our new lives and what we could leave here. It was heartbreakingly familiar, just like the first night that we fled from the monkeys.

Finally we were ready. Derek unlocked the door, and we walked out into the sunlight.

Oh, crap.

So my simian stalker showed up in the comments again today:

Clarisssa Bio-human female. Know I. Not evil monkey you. Not soft I. Metal. Cold. Sstrong. Not insider I. Hiding. Afraid. Helping few. Good not trusst me you. Not trust you I. Rissk. Monkey gun bring I. Leave by your door. Take or not take. Rissk.
-Monkey Not Evil I

I didn't think much of it. Talk, like Viagra, is cheap on the Internets.

But not long after we finished not watching the State of the Union address, I heard a strange scratching sound at the door. Hell. Immediately I knew what it was, so I faked coughing to cover it up. Derek looked alarmed for a minute but I think I covered it up well enough.

And then I waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, Derek headed off to the bathroom.

I ran and opened the door. And just like the monkey said, there was a gun there, one of the laser rifles.

Just like he said.

I grabbed it and closed the door and quickly hid it under the baby's mattress and was back in place by the time Derek got back from the bathroom.

But now I'm shaking so hard I can barely type. The gun means a lot of things: it means I have a weapon. It means I have the opportunity to explore ERM technology. It means my monkey did what he said he would do. It means I need to find a secluded location for target practice.


However, the main thing it means is:



The monkeys know where we are.



Derek will be so angry when I tell him. Oh, fuck. This is all my fault.